During the second week in April, Stephen called the team together. ‘I would like your opinion, but I think we should move nearer to Arras. A battle started there a few days ago and it looks like lasting a while. What d’you all think?’
Pips glanced at Leonore. She and the sister now seemed to be regarded by the rest of the team as senior members. Leonore was certainly in charge of the nursing side, and they all looked to Pips to organize the vehicles and the recovery of casualties.
‘I agree with you, Stephen, I think we should go,’ Pips said and Leonore nodded. ‘Dr Hazelwood formed us to be a flying ambulance corps that would go wherever we are most needed.’
‘Are we all agreed, then?’ Stephen asked, glancing around and receiving a chorus of ‘yes’.
‘Then I’ll get in touch with Phil and Mike and see what they want to do. They’d be good as backup, but that decision must be theirs.’
‘Right, then,’ Grace said, ‘Milly, you’re with me. Come and help me pack, there’s a dear.’
‘Oh, and Milly,’ Pips said, ‘when you’ve finished helping Grace, come and help me sort out all the medical supplies the stretcher bearers use, will you? We need to make sure they have everything in their packs ready for use the minute we get there.’
‘And after that, you can help Brigitta and me.’ Leonore smiled.
Milly beamed. She loved being busy, and everyone was making her feel so needed.
As she trotted after her aunt, Pips murmured, ‘You know, she really is an adorable girl. I just hope she doesn’t get taken in by some lovesick soldier.’
Leonore chuckled. ‘Have you noticed how she calls them all “dahling”?’
‘Does she? Oh dear. I hope that doesn’t give them the wrong idea.’
‘I don’t think so, because she says it to everyone. I even heard her call Stephen it yesterday. He looked a bit startled at first and then smiled as if to say, “Oh, it’s just Milly”.’
Pips laughed, but then she sobered. ‘Well, we’ll soon find out if she can cope with battle conditions. She’s had a fairly easy induction so far. But now, things will get serious . . .’
The move to Arras went smoothly, but, on their arrival, they were soon inundated with casualties. As William unloaded the first ambulance, Milly stood and stared at the bandaged men, heard their cries of pain and saw two more ambulances coming into the field with yet more wounded.
‘Oh my!’ she murmured, but then she moved suddenly towards the rear of the vehicle and reached out to help William lift the stretcher. ‘We’ll soon have that leg seen to, dahling,’ she said to the young soldier with a deep gash down the length of his left leg.
By the end of the first day, the front of Milly’s dress was soaked with the blood of others and her hands were blistered from carrying the stretchers, but she was still smiling and moving amongst those lying on the ground, waiting for attention. She made them as comfortable as possible, helped them to drink or to eat and spoke soothingly.
‘I’m so sorry I’m not a nurse, but is there anything I can do for you?’
She did not leave the field until the last patient had been carried into the treatment tent.
Later, Milly was missing and Pips went in search of her. She found her in the tent they shared at night. She was in tears and holding her hands out, palms upwards, in front of her. As Pips entered the tent, she tried to wipe the tears away but not before Pips had seen them. She sat down on the camp bed and put her arms around the girl’s shoulders. ‘You did wonderfully well today, Milly. I’ll find you some ointment for your hands and, tomorrow, you must wear gloves.’
She leaned her head against Pips’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t know it would be so awful. I feel so useless.’
‘But you weren’t. You fetched and carried, gave them drinks and comforted them until one of us could attend to their wounds. Now, come on, dry those tears and come with me to find Sister Leonore for that ointment.’
As they left the tent, Pips slipped her arm through Milly’s. ‘You’ll do, Millicent Fortesque. You’ll do.’
The Battle of Arras lasted a month and was considered one of the more successful offensives of the war, particularly the capture of Vimy Ridge in which the Canadians played the significant role.
At the beginning of July, the team heard that the first American troops had landed in France and had paraded in Paris. Bad news reached them at the same time that a casualty-clearing station near Bailleul had been attacked in an air raid and doctors and patients had been killed and injured.
At the very end of the month Stephen told them, ‘We’re going back to Ypres. There’s going to be a third battle there in an effort to consolidate our gains – so I’m told. Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig’s aim is to capture the ports of Ostend and Zeebrugge.’
‘I presume,’ Pips said, ‘that’s because the German submarines and destroyers menace our shipping from those ports.’
Stephen smiled at her. ‘Exactly right, Pips.’
‘Then we’d better do our best to help him do it.’
‘I’m suggesting we don’t go back to Brandhoek this time, but to a place called Essex Farm about five miles from there as the crow flies and not far from the Ypres-Yser canal.’
Pips shuddered. Had she really walked all that way in the darkness the night that she had discovered Giles’s infidelity? For it had been near the canal that George had found her.
She pulled her attention back to what Stephen was saying.
‘Why’s it called Essex Farm? Unusual for an English name to be used, isn’t it?
‘I understand the British took over that area from the French in the spring of 1915 and started to give English names to various locations, one of them being the dressing station and,’ he added soberly, ‘the cemetery that sadly became necessary there too.’
He paused briefly and then went on, ‘I’ve been told that there are some well-constructed bunkers there that have been used as operating theatres, wards, kitchens and also dugouts for our personnel. We’ll still take our tents with us, of course, they’ll always come in useful. Mrs Parrott has obtained gas masks and tin hats for all of us, as we shall be pretty close to the fighting.’
‘Gas?’ Milly’s eyes were wide. ‘Are there likely to be gas attacks?’
‘Their new weapon is mustard gas. It burns the eyes and comes over from the enemy in shells, so there’s no warning.’
They reached their new home on 30 July and having inspected – and approved – the new accommodation, set everything up.
‘We’d better get as much sleep as we can,’ Stephen advised.
Early in the morning, the gunfire started and further sleep was impossible. Instead, they dressed and went outside to watch the searchlights, the star shells and gun flashes.
‘Oh, the noise,’ Milly said, putting her hands over her ears. ‘Will it go on like this non-stop?’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Pips said ruefully. ‘Come on, Milly, we’d better get ready. We’re going to have a busy day . . .’
About mid-morning came the high explosives. ‘These are what the tin hats are for,’ Pips said, pulling hers on. ‘Oh, very fetching, Milly.’
‘At least they’re not gas shells,’ Milly said.
‘No, but the flying shrapnel is just as deadly. Come on, I’m driving the ambulance today. The others have already gone. If only this wretched rain would stop.’
‘Is it ever going to stop raining, William?’
‘I’ve never known weather like this in July and August, Pips. The locals say that it’s not rained like this for over thirty years. The mud is the worst enemy in this battle. It takes eight of us sometimes to carry one casualty through it. And even if we get to our first-aid post, the motor ambulances are getting bogged down. And the horses . . .’ He shuddered. ‘It’s pitiful to see the poor creatures struggling and just sinking. The look in their eyes . . .’
‘Don’t, William. I hope I don’t witness any of that.’
‘We’ve lost no end of men that way too. If they slip off the duckboards and there’s no one on hand to help them, they’re gone.’
But, of course, she did see it all. Day after day, they trudged from the trenches back to the advanced first-aid post, scarcely knowing how they kept going. And then out again they went. Whilst there were men to tend, somehow, they would carry on.
Pips wrote home to Robert, using the code as they’d planned where she felt it was necessary:
The Somme was bad enough – and of course, the tremendous loss of life was appalling – but this is just soul-destroying. The countryside is a wasteland as far as one can see. Ravaged and devastated for generations to come, I shouldn’t wonder. And there are so many who’ve been lost and who have no known grave – blown to pieces and never found or lost in the mud. We’re all so weary and can’t see an end to it all. The one bright spark is Milly. At first, we all thought she was rather scatty and empty-headed, but she keeps so cheerful through it all and isn’t afraid of anything. Looks can certainly be deceptive. The soldiers absolutely adore her . . .
But it’s the mud, Robert, that’s making life so difficult here. To see the men brought in caked with mud and to know that it will have infected their wounds when we’re trying so hard – and putting ourselves in danger in the effort – to get treatment to them so much earlier is heartbreaking. We get the odd fine day now and again but it never seems long enough for the ground to really dry out and then we get rain and thunderstorms again. Everyone here is doing sterling work, but I do miss you and Alice . . .